Happily Letter After(81)

“I love you, too.”

He smiled. “Good. Now. Umdrehen.”

“Umdrehen?” My brows furrowed. “Roll over?”

Sebastian did some stealth move and I went from sitting up to flat on my back.

His eyes twinkled. “You know, deciding not to open that envelope until years from now works in my favor in another way.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“It’ll give you a reason to stick around and find out the answer.”

I smiled. “You mean another reason to stick around.”

He seemed genuinely confused. “What’s the first reason?”

“You. I never needed any other.”





CHAPTER 30

SADIE

Four weeks later

“Coffee?” Devin sashayed into my office and plopped down two rubber-banded stacks of mail onto my desk. Each had to be three inches thick. Even more letters than yesterday.

I looked down at the piles. “I think I need caffeine for this. Can you grab me my usual, a grande iced, sugar-free vanilla latte with soy milk?”

“Yup. One cup of no-fun coming up.”

I went into my desk drawer and pulled out my wallet. Devin held up her hand. “Nope. It’s my turn. I’ll be back in a bit. Put aside the nuttiest letters for me to read.”

I laughed. “Always.”

Two days ago, the magazine had run a snippet stating that the Holiday Wishes feature would be starting back up next week. I couldn’t believe how much mail I’d received in only forty-eight hours. One of our interns usually helped sort through the letters. She’d pull out the ones she found interesting for consideration, but I also liked to rummage through and open a few myself. Sometimes it was random, maybe the first few letters on the top of the pile, and other times I’d pick by the last name listed on the return address or an interesting place that the person lived. Even though the magazine was only distributed in print in the US, I’d always get some readers from across the globe. Yesterday I’d picked Janice Woodcock because, well, who wouldn’t be curious what else a woman with that last name could possibly need for Christmas? I also picked a person who lived in Bacon, Indiana. Because, well . . . bacon.

I sat back in my chair, took the rubber band off one of the bundles, and started to shuffle through today’s letters. Scanning the names and addresses, nothing seemed to jump out at me, until I got to one particular envelope and froze.

B. Maxwell.

Holy shit. Birdie wrote to Santa again?

I couldn’t rip the letter open fast enough.

Dear Santa,

I’m not sure if you’ll remember me or not, but my name is Birdie Maxwell. I wrote to you a few months ago and asked you to bring my dad and me some stuff. Don’t worry, I’m not asking for more already. I have everything I need. But here’s the thing: I don’t think you’re real anymore. It wasn’t too hard to figure out.

You see, in history we’re studying population. My teacher, Mrs. Parker, said the population of the North Pole is zero. She said that humans can’t survive the temperatures and pretty much only narwhals live there. Zero people at the North Pole where you’re supposed to live!

Then there’s Suzie Redmond, this girl at school. I told you about her before. She saw her mom putting out the presents Christmas morning last year. Also, if you make the toys in your workshop, why do the dolls I got last year say Made in China? Something’s fishy with that.

Oh, and I did the math. Mrs. Parker said there are 1.9 billion kids in the world living on over two hundred million square miles, and the average family has 2.67 children. That would mean that you’d have to go 5,083,000 miles per hour to visit everyone on Christmas Eve. How can that old wooden sleigh go so fast?

Plus . . . you can’t get in our fireplace! Duh!

So, since I’m pretty sure you’re not real, you’re probably wondering why I’m even writing at all. Well, I’ve decided that when I grow up, I want to be a writer, just like my special friend Sadie. Sometimes she comes over so that my babysitter can go home early, and we sit at the dining room table doing our work together. Like right now, she’s on her laptop typing across from me, and I’m pretending to do my homework. But really, I did my homework in class while the teacher was talking about something boring today, so I’m writing to you just to practice my writing.

I covered my mouth with my hand and started to crack up.

What a little twerp. We did sit across from each other when I came over early and had work to finish. I had no idea she wasn’t doing homework. Still laughing, I went back to finish her letter.

Anyway, it’s okay that you’re not real. I have everything I could ever want. My dad smiles all the time now. That’s pretty much because of Sadie. She makes me smile, too. Even if you were real, I wouldn’t ask for any presents for me this year. Well, except maybe for Sadie to say yes to what Dad’s going to ask her on Christmas.

Love,

Birdie Maxwell

My eyes widened.

To what Dad’s going to ask me on Christmas?



Christmas Eve had me on pins and needles. This was going to be perhaps the biggest night of my life. I carefully selected my wardrobe, choosing a red dress that I knew Sebastian loved based on the one time I’d worn it before. If he was going to be proposing to me tonight, I wanted to make sure that I was dressed for the occasion.